


Creativity

by evilmouse



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Competence Kink, Complicated Traps, Drug Dealing, Dug (species), Escape, Established Relationship, Explosions, Explosives, F/M, Fic Exchange, Fluff and Humor, Jedi Luke Skywalker, Luke MacGyver, MacGyver references, MacGyver-ism, Married Skywalkers, May the Fourth Exchange, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Missions, New Republic era, No Smut, The Force, and Mara's pretty inventive too, and anagrams, and quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23750902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilmouse/pseuds/evilmouse
Summary: When Mara wants her husband to pull off a mission without the help of the Force, using only his blaster, wits, and good looks, what could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 24
Kudos: 52
Collections: May the 4th Be With You Star Wars Fanworks Exchange 2020





	Creativity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirin/gifts).



> I hope you like your gift lirin! This madcap adventure would never have happened without your list of likes and wants!
> 
> Credit for the fabulous logo to the amazing [ThreadSketchier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreadSketchier/pseuds/ThreadSketchier). A big thanks to [JediMordsith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediMordsith/pseuds/JediMordsith) for the beta, and additional thanks to my sister, the biggest old-school MacGyver fan I know and the reason I was capable of writing this thing!

“What do you _mean_ I use the Force too much?!” Luke was incredulous. He was accustomed to Mara giving him a hard time, but this was a new one. “It can’t be depleted like a power pack; I won’t run out.”

His wife put her hands on her hips, a condemning glare he hadn’t suffered in ages burning holes into his skull. 

“That’s not the point. And that’s not _exactly_ what I said.”

“Well, what _is_ the point?” Luke crossed his arms defensively, hearing the hint of complaint edge into the words and quickly fighting to stifle it. “And that’s what it _sounded_ like you said—”

“No,” Mara interrupted with a sigh, leaning against the patrol fighter’s cabin wall. The sigh was somehow worse than the glare. “I said you _rely_ on the Force too much. It’s dangerous. You draw on it when there are other options.”

“Less effective options.”

“Perhaps not as _easy_ , but just as effective.”

Luke’s turn to sigh, running a hand through rumpled hair. He couldn’t even remember how they had gotten on this topic. The whole conversation was making him more than a little uncomfortable—it was far too reminiscent of that time back on Nirauan, another examination of his mistakes, his recklessness. But that was a long time ago, and he’d grown since. He was now more careful about using his power, mindful of his limitations. Luke truly had taken Mara’s words back then to heart, however painful the realization had been. 

“It’s not like Nirauan,” she said softly, stepping to his side. As usual, Mara was practically a mind reader even without their bond.

“I just don’t think there’s a problem,” he answered, trying to match her gentler tone and failing. The protest came out far too defensive.

Her answer was the slightest tilt of her chin. It was typical that Mara’s looks were more eloquent than words.

“Fine,” Luke sighed again, cursing mentally. “And that’s the problem, you think.”

His acknowledgement was rewarded with a brief smile.

“Yes.” Slipping one hand into his and straightening, Mara nodded. “Anyway, I’ve got a proposition for you.”

The grin that automatically appeared at her words almost made him feel better. 

“Not like that,” she swatted his arm. “You’re insatiable.” 

Luke swept her into an embrace, ready to prove his wife correct. Mara broke the kiss far too quickly to be encouraging, though she did remain in his arms.

“Tell me, then.” He resigned himself. The Jedi Master was helpless when faced with Mara’s marital dispute tactics.

“You’re a capable fighter.”

He rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

Mara squeezed his ribs tighter. “You know how to shoot, and you’re no slouch with mechanics.”

“I’m overcome by these compliments.” The sarcasm dripped more thickly from Luke’s lips.

“And…” Mara’s hands slid over his shoulders, fingers gliding up into his mussed hair, “…you’re not stupid either.”

“How did I resist her for so long?” Luke asked the ceiling, scooping Mara up into his arms and carrying her towards the captain’s quarters as she squirmed in mock protest.

“Wait, wait!”

Reluctantly, Luke set Mara back on her feet. He far preferred more physical distractions to continuing this dialogue, but when his wife was serious, she was more stubborn than he was, and that was saying something.

“Luke.” Her tone was less strict than expected, so he relaxed a smidge. “This mission—we aren’t going up against Force-wielders.” 

Luke raised an eyebrow. He was afraid he knew where she was heading. 

“Well, we don’t expect to be, anyway,” she continued, “so—”

“…So let’s not use the Force?” he finished. “Is that what you’re saying? Or lightsabers? Infiltrate and disrupt the nefarious Dug crimelord Mucdro’s death stick smuggling operation with only our blasters, wits, and good looks?”

Luke didn’t know what he expected as a response to his preposterous suggestion, but definitely not the enthusiastic and brilliant smile on Mara’s face.

“Exactly.”

“No Force?” She couldn’t mean it.

“Nope. Not if it can be avoided.”

“No sabers?”

“We can bring them, but last resort only.”

“Mara…” Luke met her gaze, sober now that he realized she wasn’t kidding. “Mucdro’s Enforcers are known for their traps, their tricks. This isn’t some training exercise. Without the Force—”

“We’ll _have_ the Force if we need it,” Mara cajoled. “Let’s just see how far we get without, all right?” She pecked another kiss on his lips, which were still hanging open in disbelief.

“Fine.” Luke agreed with nonchalance he didn’t feel. It wasn’t exactly possible to “turn off” the Force—it was always _there_ , a part of his senses now, just like sight and sound. It was just one of the reasons ysalamiri were so traumatic to be around—the absence they created in the Force was like trying to breathe in a vacuum. But, he rationalized, Mara wasn’t saying they couldn’t _feel_ it, just shouldn’t harness it if there were alternatives.

It might be an interesting experiment, Luke decided, even if he felt a New Republic anti-drug trafficking operation was not the ideal time to undertake such a thing.

The proximity warning chimed from the cockpit, interrupting his thoughts. They were rapidly approaching their destination and about to drop out of hyperspace. Cursing under his breath at the timing, Luke followed Mara to the helm.

The planet Malastare was a mottled green and blue orb in the blackness of space. Luke had never been, and had never held any ambitions of visiting. It was best known for methane lakes and gangsters, and therefore low down on any list, as far as he was concerned. But New Republic Intelligence had determined that the heir to the Sebolto crime family had restarted and refitted an ancient Clone Wars-era plant for the manufacture of particularly toxic death sticks. Attempts at sanctions and legal avenues had failed, diplomatic negotiations proved fruitless, and military threats were ignored. Thus, Master Skywalker had readily volunteered to “check for flaws in the supply chain”—government-sanctioned speak for “ruin everything beyond repair.”

Luke had needed a pause from the Academy, but it was really for Mara’s sake that he’d offered up their Jedi services. She’d been going stir-crazy the past few months—ever since they’d returned from that barely-successful mostly-botched trip to Obredaan. This pure sabotage/total destruction mission seemed perfect as a distraction. And, Luke had to admit, they had long given up on attempting the typical romantic getaways other couples seemed to enjoy. A few days “playing hero,” as Mara teased, was rapidly becoming their definition of a vacation, so Luke was game. The post-mission celebrations were the real benefit, when Mara relaxed and he was able to forget about anything but her for a while. 

So this operation was supposed to be another dose of variety and together-time, but now his wife had made him agree to these “no-Jedi” conditions—definitely not what he’d had in mind.

The Cutlass-9 ship was a relic, and NRI had indicated it was a common enough vessel in the system to escape much scrutiny. This one had been heavily armored, but easily blended in with the other traffic jockeying for spaceport berths from orbit.

Mara was all business as she transmitted their clearance code. It checked out, and they were directed to dock 323. Luke didn’t hide his admiration as she manually steered through congested spacelanes and flawlessly berthed the ship.

With a blush of pride, Mara clicked her tongue at him as the ship’s old engines shuddered and stilled.

“What? Is staying shielded part of this f—” Luke swallowed the adjective that wanted to come,“— _exercise_ too?!” He couldn’t believe it. It was one thing to not draw upon the Force for help, quite another to cut himself off from his wife and the bond they shared.

Mara groaned in surrender. “Well, you don’t have to be so…” Luke smiled angelically, waiting for her to finish. “…So…blatantly _adoring_.” 

She couldn’t keep a straight face when he laughed.

“Sorry.”

“You are not,” Mara returned flatly, the curl of her lips betraying amusement.

“Not even a little,” Luke grinned, stealing a quick kiss as she left to greet the docking administrative representative for the requisite paperwork. 

~~

Two hours later, Luke and Mara arrived on the outskirts of the death stick factory. The tandem speeder bike from the ship was a silent-running model, so they made good time and attracted no attention, although it was already late. The bureaucratic part of the mission had taken longer than expected, and Mara was a stickler for details, refusing to be rushed. Now Malastare’s ten hours of daylight were coming to an end, its two moons already glowing in the darkening sky. 

Previous recon had determined Mucdro’s goons patrolled the grounds on an irregular basis, and there were booby traps, deadfalls, and lethal deterrents hidden around the area to keep away curious locals, criminal competitors, and the authorities. Unfortunately, NRI had been unable to provide intel as to the exact nature of the obstacles, another reason they’d asked for Jedi to handle the operation.

It had been a quiet ride. Without using the Force, Luke had relied on the bike’s factory-installed nav unit to find their way, and now, at the border of the dense forest that surrounded the premises, he slowed to a stop. With a small squeeze, Mara dismounted.

“We leave it here,” Luke said needlessly. Mara nodded, grabbing her pack and tossing him a bandolier full of powercells. Luke caught it a bit too easily and shook his head in frustration. It was hard to stop using the Force—sort of like shooting with a new hand when you had learned with the other.

“Sorry,” he offered, admitting the lapse.

“Just _try_ ,” Mara chastened.

“I am trying,” he snapped, then immediately felt bad for it. “It’s just that it’s distracting—to have to focus on not using the Force instead of on accomplishing the Mission. If it gets too much—”

“I know,” she answered, setting off without waiting for him to fasten the bandolier.

…Only to stop a few seconds later after he’d caught up.

“What—”

“Shh…” Mara cautioned, and it took every ounce of control for Luke to not reach out with the Force to figure out what she’d noticed. “See how the land slopes?”

He _had_ seen, and figured it was some sort of ditch for sewage or factory runoff. But squinting his eyes in the twilight, Luke could make out a writhing mess of green and grey creatures. 

“Gorm-worms,” he said softly, one hand latching on Mara’s arm and pulling her back from the moat.

“Gorm-worms?! I thought that was just a spacer insult.”

“No, they’re real. And they’re deadly and fast. C’mon.”

Luke led her back to the bike, mind racing. Not too long ago, he’d read a legend in a brittle text claiming a trained Gorm-worm was responsible for the death of a Jedi. A chill slid down his spine at the memory. 

Unlike Mara, Luke had heard quite a few stories about the beasts, and even seen one up close in Mos Eisley when he was young. A wizened trader had it on a tether, refusing to sell his pet to many interested parties. Luke remembered staring at the reptile, surprised at the intelligence in its eyes. Apparently, if he recalled correctly, they imprinted on owners, loyal for life if domesticated from birth. But wild ones…they invariably swarmed and killed. And Gorm-worm venom was rumored to be almost as fast-acting as the creature itself. Faster than at least one Jedi, anyway.

Once he was sure they weren’t in sight of the beasts, he whispered quickly, explaining what he knew. Mara looked undeterred.

“So how do we get across?” she asked when he finished. “We have no choice. If we don’t approach from this side, we’ll be spotted.”

“We use the Force…” Mara’s eyes narrowed as Luke recovered, “…is what I would _normally_ suggest, but of course that’s out of the question.” With a small grunt, Luke pinched the bridge of his nose. She was not making this easy. “There _may_ be a way, but we still need to have our lightsabers ready in case it doesn’t work.”

“I’m listening,” his wife said, her tone surprisingly chipper.

Luke cocked his head towards the bike. “Speeder fuel. If we coat ourselves in it, they should stay away.”

“Why?” Despite the question, Mara was already unscrewing the reservoir cap, apparently taking his word for it.

“It’s a trick I learned to keep away snakes. On Dagobah.” Luke grinned at the memory. “Short term and infrequent use, of course. I think it has something to do with their skin, the fumes or something hurts them. And Gorm-worms are similar biologically, so it should work.” He shrugged. “Unless you have another idea.”

“So we douse ourselves in combustible fuel and just…walk through them?”

“Unless you want to clear a path with the Force or—” Luke tapped three fingers against the hilt at his waist.

“Speeder fuel it is,” Mara said, submerging her arm up to the elbow in the tank and starting to spread the liquid up and down her limbs. When she had finished, Luke did the same, enjoying the smell despite himself. It brought back memories of tinkering on his T-16, getting covered in grease and grit. Those were some of the best days on Tatooine, he thought, capping the reminiscence before it could bloom into something sad.

Luke turned to Mara, a crooked smile on his lips. She had twisted her scarlet hair up into a knot, and the fuel wet her clothes enough to cling to every curve.

“You look gorgeous covered in flammable material.”

“Just hope I don’t look incandescent later,” Mara smiled back.

They set off again, walking smoothly but firmly towards the pit of toxic reptiles. Luke noticed Mara’s fingers gripped her saber tightly, and said nothing, his own weapon ready to be ignited at a moment’s notice. Just before they got too close to reconsider, Luke stopped her again.

“Look, maybe, you know, I can just check? Only a scan, to see if it’s going to work, before we…”

“Doubting your reflexes, Master Skywalker, or your plan?” Mara sounded like she was enjoying this.

“You won’t be happy when we’re dead,” Luke grumbled, giving up. He pushed in front of his wife, calling upon the Force for strength like a prayer—not a lifeline, just a word of support—and stepped into the ditch. It _was_ his plan, so if it didn’t work, only fair that he was first in the line of fire.

Almost immediately, the closest Gorm-worms reacted. They weren’t large, but scurried with breathtaking speed towards the Jedi. Luke kept walking at an even pace, eyes rapidly skimming the terrain and finger twitching near his lightsaber’s controls. But only two meters away, the approaching creatures froze, bending and twisting as they struggled between the urge to attack and fear for their own skins. It was a far more violent recoil than Luke had ever witnessed from swamp pythons or dragonsnakes. The fuel was working, at least for the moment.

“See,” breathed Mara, close at his back. “No problem.”

“The _problem_ will be when the next trap is crossing a burning bridge,” Luke joked, eyes never leaving the Gorm-worms. But none attacked, and several that had been blocking the upwards slope at the far end of the ditch crawled rapidly away as they neared. Crouching low, Luke broke into a run as they drew level with the ground, taking cover behind some creaking mechanical engine at the factory’s rear wall.

Mara settled next to him. The warmth of her body made his respond as always, but without the Force Luke couldn’t tell if it was adrenaline, anxiety, or something more romantic his wife was emanating.

“So what next, farmboy?”

He pointed at a well-trodden line in the grass a few meters away.

“Patrol must come by here. Maybe best to ambush and then disguise ourselves to get inside?”

Nodding, Mara pressed closer to fit in the cramped space.

“Except I have a better idea.”

Luke followed her index finger’s trajectory to a small door he hadn’t noticed.

“Kitchen entrance.”

“It’s a back entrance, but _kitchen_? Thought you weren’t supposed to use the Force either.”

“I’m not,” Mara grinned, sprinting without checking to see if Luke was behind. When he caught up, he saw what had stopped her. A bioscanner lock.

“So,” Luke was already on his knees, trying to see if he could fuse the lock open or short-circuit the security on it, “how _do_ you know?”

“I can read Dug,” Mara whispered, bending down to examine his efforts. “A few words.”

“And ‘kitchen’ just comes up in casual use?”

Luke huffed in frustration as his fingers traced the lock mechanism. The box would signal an alarm if he tried to open or bypass it. 

“It’s best to check what’s on the menu when dining with an enemy,” Mara said. “I probably know “kitchen” in almost as many languages as Threepio.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Luke replied, getting to his feet. “It’s tamper-proof,” he indicated the reader, “but it’s cold out tonight, so I bet we can get in with hot air.”

Mara snorted. “Speaking of Threepio.”

“Be nice,” Luke chided, steering Mara into a kiss. She didn’t protest, but when he broke it, she cocked one eyebrow in question.

“I don’t think we have time for this, but—”

Without replying, Luke turned and exhaled with all the warmth of their kiss on the scanner. Sure enough, four circular outlines appeared, the oily residual imprints of its habitual entrant. The reader lit up blue, and then faded before the tell-tale chime of entry sounded.

“Help,” he started, turning to Mara. “If both of us—”

She understood, and together they breathed heavily on the smooth surface. This time, the joint heat from their lungs resulted in a sustained blue glow. The door slid open with a dull ‘ding.’ 

The bright lights of the kitchen were blinding after the dim shine of Malastare’s moons. Luke winced, once again fighting the urge to use the Force to balance his senses. If Mara’s goal was to make him feel more “normal,” well, it was working. This was beyond frustrating. But they were inside. Now to find the manufacturing center, get distribution information if possible, and blow the place to one of the Stalbringion Hells.

Mara patted his backside as she moved to take the lead to clear the room. “Nice thinking, Jedi.”

“Ah, I’ve graduated from farmboy to Jedi?” Luke smirked. “When do I get to be Master?”

Biting back a laugh, Mara shook her head, checking the room for enemies using special forces tactics, before giving the all clear sign. Luke watched her, impressed as always at her infiltration skills, ready to assist and cover.

“Only in the bedroom,” he heard her murmur the delayed response as she adjusted her blaster settings. With a knowing grin, Mara set off to attack a blind corner, which wound up leading into a locker and storage area. 

Luke wasted no time opening closets and cabinets, looking for replacement clothes. The last thing he wanted was for a spark from a bubbling vat of toxin to set their fuel-soaked material on fire. But all he could find were biohazard suits, a good dozen or so. They were thinner than the typical enviro-suit, tailored for various species, and none were large enough for Luke to fit. Most seemed made for sentients with spindly legs and thick arms. Mara shed her clothes and made do with a close-fitting yellow ensemble. Not exactly camouflage, but better than his own, still doused with gas.

“At least it’s not bulky,” Mara remarked, knotting two extremely short extra sleeves at her waist and securing her holster and utility belt over the outfit. Luke couldn’t figure out the intended species. “How do I look?” she smiled, as Luke extracted a large bottle of Grulluck cooking oil from a pantry he’d been searching.

“Almost—but not quite—incandescent,” he winked, then loosened his own utility belt to wedge the container against his waist.

“What are you doing?”

“Old-fashioned booby trap,” he answered, “for anyone we hear following us. It’ll slow security down, plus they won’t necessarily know the spill wasn’t an accident.”

“See,” Mara started for the door leading to the rest of the facility, “who needs the Force?”

Luke shook his head and didn’t answer as he followed, painfully aware of the eau de speeder fuel lingering on his own damp clothes.

~~

Their luck held out longer than it should have, in Luke’s opinion.

The cooking oil came in handy as they approached the auxiliary comms room, although not quite as Luke had envisioned. There was a corner-fed corridor they had to turn down, and several guards blocking the way. Holding a finger to his lips, Luke generously coated the opposite thoroughfare, then used the empty bottle as a lure. 

With all his non-Force strength, he hurled it in the direction they’d come. Hiding in the service passage, they watched a group of guards hustle out of the comms room at the sound. Mara blocked the door before it closed and they were in. 

They could hear muffled clatter and curses from the hallway as the slippery ground literally tripped up the security. One unfortunate sentry had been left behind. Luke smashed a fist into the surprised Rodian’s jaw, but that didn’t work quite like he’d hoped, the man reaching for his E-11. Luke went for his own blaster, but Mara was faster. Her weapon spewed a stun blast before he could aim.

“I had that handled,” Luke commented, looking around the room.

“Sure, that’s why he was about to shoot you.” She sounded exasperated. “What were you thinking? Showing off your Akivan boxing techniques?”

Luke shrugged, holstering the gun, and took a seat at the main console. “Thought we were doing things the old-fashioned way.”

Mara huffed in response, but thankfully didn’t continue the argument. 

“And by the way,” Luke added as he experimentally flicked a few switches, “it was a Corellian boxing technique.”

“Should have known,” Mara said, stepping over to check what he was doing, “Akivan probably would have worked.”

Luke accepted her gibe with a laugh, setting a mental reminder to share that assessment with Han later, and got to work.

He knew from teenage hijinks it was possible to overload older coded transmissions by heterodyning the signals. This place was pretty ancient, even though it had been refitted and updated somewhat. Checking the comms master panel, Luke maxed every frequency and scrambled all he could. Artoo would be proud, he thought, confirming the results. Static and feedback across the board. It wasn’t clear how long it would stay that way, but it would buy them some time if the internal patrols couldn’t communicate normally. 

Turning to gloat, Luke noticed Mara squatting near the vanquished guard. He was wearing old stormtrooper chest armor, which explained why the stun had taken him down. The stuff was useless. Luke twisted off the clasps behind the shoulders and yanked it off.

Mara gave him a quizzical look and Luke just grinned. “I’m thinking ahead, trust me.”

“Not too late to demote you to farmboy, just saying,” Mara said, shaking her head. “Don’t even think about wearing it.”

“Got other plans,” Luke reassured her as they exited. 

Continuing deeper into the facility, Luke used the plastoid armor to check for motion-triggered traps along the access corridor to the distribution center. They hadn’t yet sprung any of Mucdro’s infamous snares, and that was a good thing indeed. Grudgingly, Luke was starting to see what Mara meant—the Force certainly _would_ have made everything easier, but they arguably were making similar progress without it.

They made it several hundred meters without setting off any traps or running into rogue sentries, but in the final corner before reaching the destination, their luck ran out. Luke tossed the chestplate into the air with a now-practiced motion, ready to catch it as he had multiple times along the route, but almost immediately a rapid barrage of blaster fire disintegrated it.

“Now they know we’re here,” Mara growled.

“But they don’t know anything else,” Luke reassured her. “So maybe now’s the time—”

“Not yet, Luke,” she interrupted with a decisive slice of her hand. “No Force.”

“I’m starting to think you want to be a widow,” Luke countered, peeking around the corner. There were still no sounds of running guards, just the strobe of the red light in the corridor presumably indicating an alarm had been triggered along with the blaster.

“No thanks, Jedi have lousy life insurance policies,” Mara cracked, planting a kiss on his cheek as she reached down the hall and blindly fired eight shots. The strobe stopped and blaster fire ceased.

“You’re going to tell me,” Luke said, standing straighter and gesturing down the hallway, “that you didn’t use the Force just then?”

“You doubt my shooting skills?”

Luke just shook his head, trying not to smile, as they raced to the door. However, the trick with the biometric scanner didn’t work a second time. Perhaps the air was too warm inside the factory. Luke did feel rather hot, now that he thought about it. Everything was sticky and humid, and a trickle of sweat was tickling his eyebrow.

“Just blast it,” Mara said.

“Just blast it?” Luke repeated. “But—”

“They already know we’re here,” she retorted with impatience, then shot the controls to a charred and twisted mess. The door didn’t budge.

“But,” Luke continued, his tone just as exasperated as hers, “as I was _going_ to say, this is an Athakam MedTech unit. Blasting just shuts it down, doesn’t open the door, as a precaution. Against people like _us_.” He flipped the lightsaber hilt to his fingers, enjoying its familiar weight. “But this…”

Mara’s grin was not what he expected. “See, I said you’re good at mechanics too, Skywalker.” She spun away from the portal, cocking her head down the hall. “Let’s find another entrance.”

Wondering if that “Skywalker” was a demotion or promotion from “Jedi”, Luke shook his head vehemently. “This is getting ridiculous, Mara,” he said. “We’re RIGHT HERE and—”

The long-overdue sound of security guards still hadn’t come, but the short corridor they were in suddenly became even shorter, as armored gates crashed from the ceiling, trapping them in the abbreviated space. A third gate slid shut over the standard doorway, which would make even slicing through with a lightsaber slow work. 

_INTRUDERS!_

The raspy voice spoke Basic, filtered from some unseen public comm system. Guess they’d fixed his sabotage, Luke thought with regret, trying to decide if communication would help or hinder. He briefly met Mara’s sparkling eyes, then continued looking for weaknesses in the gates trapping them. It was evident she hadn’t changed her mind.

_ALL WHO TRESPASS ARE TERMINATED. YOUR BODIES WILL BE INCINERATED. IF YOU WISH TO BEG FOR MERCY, OFFER PAYMENT OR INFORMATION, YOU HAVE TEN STANDARD SECONDS TO DO SO._

“It’s a two-way system, convenient,” smirked Mara, as Luke looked up and saw their only chance, especially without the Force. A small ventilation duct. Barely wide enough to squeeze through, definitely not big enough for a Dug, which is probably why it was allowed to be there. 

“Don’t worry about us!” Mara hollered to their unseen host. “We’ll be fine!”

Luke pointed at the vent, then laced his fingers together for Mara to get a boost up. _See! No Force jumping!_ he wanted to point out, but resisted as she stepped into his hands.

_I SERIOUSLY DOUBT THAT, AS YOUR TEN SECONDS HAVE EXPIRED. NOW YOU DIE._

But just as Mara was prying off the grate, the nefarious reason for the ventilation shaft was made distressingly obvious. A cloud of grey smoke wafted into the corridor and Mara quickly jumped down, coughing violently.

Of course. Poison. Some sort of chemical, one of Mucdro’s traps. It didn’t seem heavy, drifting above their heads rather than sinking down. Likely the intention was to fill up the whole corridor, and Luke had no idea how quickly that would be achieved. 

“It burns.” Mara, for the first time, looked uncertain, eyes narrowed and fingers clenched. But Luke was already stripping off his tunic to get to the undershirt beneath. It was wet, but with sweat, not fuel. Good. 

As the gas continued to enter the space, Luke tore the undertunic into two wide strips and gave one to Mara. Instead of explaining, he folded it twice, then wrapped it tightly around his nose and mouth, knotting at the back of the head. Mara did the same without complaint, although he knew the smell must have been less than pleasant.

Once again, Luke’s hands provided a step for her. They had to go into the gas to escape, and since it was being channeled into the hall, hopefully the dispersal mechanism wasn’t far from the exit point. Mara disappeared into the shaft and Luke jumped up to follow. He barely made the leap without the Force, thankful that his upper body strength didn’t depend on the metaphysical. The last thing he wanted was her coming back through the poison to help him up. 

_It’s clear up here._

He felt and heard Mara through their bond, and sent back a blast of gratitude. The poison gas stung and blistered as he crawled through it, but Luke ignored the pain, too relieved at their escape to be smug that Mara had just used the Force. She had moved quickly, and was far ahead. After what seemed like forever, he spotted the soles of her boots as they shimmied rapidly up the duct.

The durasteel was hard, and his bare skin squeaked against the metal as they moved. The passage went on for a long time, and Mara turned to the left, following an upwards-tilting offshoot of the shaft. Her borrowed outfit was made of slick polyvinyl, and she almost slipped once or twice. Luke was able to brace them both at his own expense. It was one of the dubious benefits of being bare-chested: the friction of metal on skin was painful yet significant enough to keep them from sliding as they climbed. The resulting abrasive burn was added to the chemical one among the things Luke was determined to ignore, as he tried not to bitterly contemplate all the ways the Force would have made this entire mission simpler.

At least Mara had the biosuit to protect her. Luke was grateful for that. So lost in relief, and intent on thinking about anything but his own situation, he almost crashed into her feet. Mara had stopped without warning, just as the duct tunnel had expanded.

There was a blast of hot air ahead. An exit. Confirming his suspicions, he heard the clatter of Mara smashing some grating open. The hint of a foul odor wafted into his awareness at the same time. Wondering what it would smell like without his sweat-soaked facemask, Luke scooted next to his wife in the rectangular outlet.

“Careful.” Her voice was muffled but calm.

The duct had greatly widened at the mouth—clearly this room required more air—and the view below the vent explained why.

They’d found the death stick manufacturing center. Vats of chemicals bubbled, the boiled essence of ixetal cilona sending putrid green vapors upwards every few seconds as it simmered. Luke couldn’t help but think of all the beings addicted and suffering from the narcotics, while unscrupulous Dugs like Mucdro profited. The only positive development was there were no guards posted in this part of the factory. Surprising. Perhaps the fumes were too toxic for sentients to withstand for extended periods. A droid sentry stood at the only visible portal—a double door on the opposite side from their current location.

There was nothing to be done but use the Force to safely descend to the floor. Luke turned to Mara who shook her head, once again not needing their bond to read his mind.

“Are you kidding?!” he protested.

“We’ve come this far. Once we set the charges here, we’re almost done, right?”

“Right,” Luke mumbled, scanning the vast room’s construction and thoughtfully resisting the urge to mention she’d used the Force to communicate a few minutes ago. 

A variety of pipes and structural beams criss-crossed the ceiling, and a maintenance ladder stopped just about four feet below the lowest. They could likely move hand-over-hand along one of the tubes to the far side. Like kids on a playground, shouldn’t be too difficult.

Luke extended one arm, moving forward, but Mara stopped him. 

“Let me go first. To see if they hold,” she explained.

He didn’t think their weight difference was important, truth be told. Luke instinctively didn’t like Mara’s proposal. Sure, she was wearing the biosuit, but that wouldn’t give her more than a few seconds’ protection if she fell in one of those vats. But, he mentally corrected himself, he wouldn’t _let_ her fall. He’d use the Force to catch her.

“Please.” She had seen his skeptical look.

Luke knew better than to argue. “Fine, but Mara, really, no experiment is worth dying over. If you start to fall, I’m stopping you.” 

“Understood.” Her green eyes crinkled above the improvised breathing filter, and Luke felt her smile. 

“I love you.”

“I know,” she answered, stretching her waist into the open air and reaching for the nearest pipe, hissing and yanking her hand back in pain.

A nasty welt was rising on the tip of her fingers. The pipes were hot. Very very hot. Maybe even full of the boiling death stick solution.

“Let me.”

“I’ll be fine.”

This was too much. Luke let his anger simmer just a moment and then tried to swallow it back. 

“Look, I promise we will get across the pipes like mere mortals, Mara, just stop being stubborn and let me heal the burn.”

She jerked her chin in his direction.

“You didn’t heal your own.”

Luke rested his tense, feverish forehead on the duct’s cooler metal for a moment, counting to ten and only getting to five.

“I will if you will, all right? It’s only because I forgot about it in all the _excitement_.” He loved her, but she also could drive him absolutely bonkers.

With a sigh like he’d asked her to betray her best friend, Mara held out her fingers. Luke let the Force rush into his senses, almost giddy with it, and then battled for focus, sending a wave of healing to the burn.

“Now you,” she said when it was done. But the stench of toxic fumes from the chemical vats was getting stronger. The sweat in the makeshift face masks was evaporating in the overheated air, and with it, the slim protection they offered in filtering out the noxious smell.

“I will in a minute.” Luke started undoing his belt, unsurprised that his wife didn’t ask what he was thinking. They were pretty well-tuned, most of the time, Force or no Force.

Handing her the utility belt and holster to hold while he finished pulling off his pants, Luke tugged them over his bootheels in annoyance. His blacks were normally comfortable, but definitely not practical at the moment for what he had in mind.

“Wrap around our hands?” Mara asked, voice dulled by the mask.

“Judging by that burn,” he nodded towards her hand, “I think we’ll each have to actually loop a leg around the pipes, hang a safe distance below, and try to slide across. Avoid contact.” It sounded foolish just to suggest, but he didn’t see how else to accomplish it. “Unless…a Force-assisted transit?” Luke added hopefully. Maybe he could put his pants back on.

“Rip ‘em up, Skywalker.” Mara was clearly amused. “I planned on getting you naked tonight, just not quite this soon.”

Luke laughed quietly, trying to take some consolation in the fact that if this didn’t work, they would have the Force to save them. Different than the gas.

“Still got the basics,” he joked, snapping the waistband of his underwear for emphasis before reattaching both belts and holster. It looked comical, but he wasn’t leaving anything behind.

“Let’s see what the next room has in store, then,” Mara teased, accepting the asymmetrically-ripped pant leg and leaning back out. 

“Be careful, Mara. There’s still fuel on them. If it gets too hot…”

“I know, I know.” She pointed. “See that one pipe?” 

“Yeah.” It was already at an incline, and Luke instantly got what she was talking about. With the pant leg, even if it caught on fire, Mara shouldn’t need more than fifteen seconds to glide across the expanse separating them from the other side of the room.

“What if it doesn’t slide? Gets stuck or you can’t move?”

“Then you rescue me,” Mara quipped, tossing the length of black material to try to loop it around the far pipe she’d targeted. It wasn't close, and took a few tries. Luke fisted his hands, holding back the very present desire to help or hinder surreptitiously with the Force. If she didn’t succeed, then they would just do the sensible thing and lift one another to the floor. 

The fumes were definitely getting stronger. He coughed just as Mara caught the looped pant leg. Holding his breath, Luke watched her dangling in midair. The pipe seemed uncooperative. It held, but Mara didn’t budge, stuck on an unseen snare. Thankfully, the material hadn’t started smoking. Yet.

With a feat of strength, Mara pulled herself up, so her arms were at ninety-degree angles, and then seemed to somehow flip the material off whatever had caught it. And she was moving, gliding less quickly than Luke would have liked, but jerkily progressing towards the far wall. Abruptly aware that he had forgotten to breathe, Luke sucked in a lungful of air, wincing at the combined flavor of salt and stewing rotten balo mushrooms that would ruin the lives of those who smoked or drank their essence.

Destroying this place would be immensely satisfying.

Mara had arrived at the wall, her control making the collision almost soundless. She blew him a masked kiss and nodded. 

Luke gasped at the pain as he pushed forward. So focused on Mara’s trajectory, he had forgotten to heal himself as promised. No time to think about that now. It could wait. Nothing that bacta and the Force couldn’t handle later. 

It took Luke just two tries to catch the leg in a loop around the pipe. With a last look to make sure Mara was spotting, he dropped to hang from the material. The pipe creaked and dipped dramatically. For a moment, Luke thought it would break, but instead he descended rapidly, unable to slow or control the slide as his weight caused greater acceleration. He held out his boots towards the end, arms shuddering from the shock of hitting the wall. 

The sentry droid looked up with a shrill sound and Mara blasted it with one shot.

“Why didn’t we do that before?” Luke asked.

“Don’t know,” she admitted. “Are you all right?” She stared at him a moment and then her tone softened. “You’re really burned.”

“I know, it’s fine, that’s what bacta is for. We gotta keep going. The fumes—”

The words shook when she spoke again. “I didn’t think…”

“Mara.” Luke’s voice was firm as his feet managed to find the topmost rung of the ladder. “This is nothing. Remember, we’ve still got the Force if we need it. Let’s keep going.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry I’ve still got my basics?” Luke tried to make her smile, and was rewarded with that small crinkle by the eyes once more.

“Among other things.”

“C’mon.” Holding on to her legs while he stepped lower, Luke moved quickly and then steadied Mara as she joined him. They quickly reached the floor, setting charges in silence. This place would be a toxic nightmare come morning if they didn’t completely incinerate it. Luckily, Luke thought they had brought enough. Mara was never stingy on the explosives. Something she had in common with his brother-in-law, he thought with a smile.

Finished, they met at the double doors, which opened without a fight. Apparently whatever poor souls had to work in this refinery were not offered security clearances. Most likely addicts, Luke thought in disgust, stepping over the inert droid on the floor to exit.

As the doors clanged shut behind them, Luke took a deep breath of the comparatively fresh air in the corridor and unwrapped the torn shirt from his face, knotting it around his neck instead. He looked up to see his wife’s admiring gaze, ogling him leisurely, thoroughly, like they were at home in bed instead of sabotaging a rank criminal enterprise.

“I want to take a holo,” Mara smirked, tugging her own mask down below her lips.

“Later,” Luke grinned back.

“Promise? Just basics, boots, and belts?”

“You can even send it to _SpaceStars Today_ ,” he replied, “as long as we get out of here.”

Mara laughed out loud, just as they heard shouting in the distance. 

“Company.”

“Run?” she asked.

“After you,” Luke waved gallantly, grabbing his lightsaber to keep it from banging into his leg or other, more sensitive areas, as they barreled down the hallway.

Mara skidded to a stop before a turbolift, pressing the call. 

“No access code needed?”

“Nope, but that’s not what I’m thinking.”

“Decoy?”

With a nod, she ducked inside the doors and hit all the levels, then ducked back out, tearing again down the corridor. Thankfully the factory was old, and its infrastructure included stairways. Luke followed Mara into the corner well and craned his neck as they began the significant ascent. 

“How long do we have?”

“About fifteen standard minutes till they blow.”

“Better get moving,” he gasped, already out of breath.

They climbed rapidly, the exercise not one either of them were particularly used to. Lots of structures, including the Jedi Temple, had stairwells, but apart from physical training, they were largely avoided as archaic. This was different.

“We’ll never make it back to the speeder bike,” Mara remarked.

“Not enough fuel left in it anyway,” Luke pointed out.

“We’ll find something.”

“We will,” he agreed, as they opened the staircase door not into another corridor, but some sort of hangar or cargo bay. The floor was strewn with spaceship parts, crates and packages, and, also, unfortunately, filled with personnel. Luke’s undressed state most likely bought them the seconds required to take cover before the Dugs and their henchman opened fire. He gripped the hilt of his lightsaber wistfully in one hand, blaster in the other.

“Six, I think,” Mara yelled over the noise.

“I counted seven, with the mechanic droid,” Luke corrected her, peeking around the corner and firing off two quick blasts. “Now six, yeah.”

Mara holstered her blaster and pulled out four flash grenades. “Cover me.”

She lurched and Luke followed, aiming high and low as they stormed the surprised guards, who were not expecting an offensive charge from such a bizarre duo. It was over in seconds, and Mara leaned against a crate, one eyebrow raised in appraisal as she scanned her husband’s body again.

“You know, your nakedness gives us a tactical advantage. They obviously couldn’t figure out what was going on with you, so we gained time and speed. Maybe this shouldn’t be a one-time thing.”

“Sure, if you don’t think you’d get jealous.” Luke replied, drawing an exaggerated leer from Mara, then stiffened as he read the stenciled Aurebesh markings on the cargo behind her.

“It says toy banthas, you see that?” Luke directed three shots into the large container. The crate fell open as the stench of smoking death sticks rose in the air, released by the blaster fire.

The contents were layers of furry plush banthas, bloated with toxic death sticks. This was how Mucdro was getting his cargo out undetected. Luke pulled out an undamaged stuffed animal and sniffed it. Nothing.

“Must have some sort of lining that hides the product.”

Mara agreed with a grimace. “I used up most of our charges below.” She rummaged in her bag. “Still got…three. Not enough to take them all out.”

Luke ripped open the plush between his fingers. As suspected, about a kilo of death sticks, tightly packed between dried grassy stuffing, material that reminded him of the arid wastes of Makem Te. Death stick ingredients were already highly combustible, and combined with this flammable stuffing…Luke started to have an idea.

“Mara, do we have any—”

“Jedi scum!”

The guttural voice—no longer filtered by a hallway loudspeaker—interrupted Luke’s question. Mucdro’s accented Basic was easily understandable. Mara shoved her utility bag in Luke’s direction, shaking her head when he opened his mouth to argue. The sound of clanking boots in the distance got louder. Mucdro was alone, but not for long.

“I’ll stall him. You have an idea, right?”

Nodding, Luke started rummaging with one hand, the other pointing to her hilt, message clear. She better use that weapon if she needed it. No “non-Jedi” heroics.

“Yes, husband.” Both eyeroll and tone said she thought he was worrying too much as Mara stood up, empty hands held in plain view.

Deciding “husband” was the ultimate promotion over “Jedi,” Luke returned his focus to the plan and his search. His fingers found the bonding tape he’d been looking for, and he looped it around one wrist, continuing to dig for supplies. The toys would burn, and the death sticks would disintegrate inside. So if Luke could rig a big enough explosive, they might be able to take out the entire shipment. But they had to do it from a distance…and they had far less than fifteen minutes now.

Scooting in reverse, Luke only stopped when his back bumped up against a lubrification bath. Of course, with droid mechanics working here, it made sense that they would have one on site. Luke quickly adjusted the concentration of oil to minimum dilution (otherwise known as maximum flammability), then scrambled on his elbows and knees to the droid maintenance dock alongside.

“I’m alone,” he heard Mara call out as he fumbled for the multitool on his utility belt.

“Do you take me for a fool, Jedi?” The villainous laugh that followed was straight out of a holofilm. “Although you managed to knock out our comms with your mystical tricks…” (Luke gave a mental snort at that) “…our security cams have been back online for quite some time. Did your scrawny companion abandon you, or is he merely hiding in fear?”

_Scrawny?_ Although he knew he should pay more attention to what he was doing, Luke couldn’t help eavesdropping. Apparently Mucdro wasn’t as impressed with his physique as his wife, he smiled. Mara, he could sense, was completely calm, so she felt confident the Dug wasn’t going to kill her yet. 

His eyes alit on half-empty fuel can. As quietly as possible, Luke crawled over to it. Stupid, not using the Force, but he was damned if he’d come this far only to cheat by floating something across the room. With the powercells left on his bandolier, Luke thought he could just about destroy everything in the room. Carefully removing the wide belt, Luke started slicing open the cases of the power packs with his multitool to destabilize them. Slowly…very slowly, peeling the cases open just enough for the volatile metal binding to be exposed. It too would explode easily if he wasn’t careful. 

“Takes more than a slimesucker like you to scare us, Mucdro. Skywalker’s gone to get the rest of the battalion.” Luke wondered vaguely if Mara was name-dropping to intimidate and grinned at his own ego. “And too bad for you, because unlike me, _he_ doesn’t default to the death penalty for your kind of scum.”

Another laugh. “Are you threatening me? More foolish than you look. If you blow this place up, you’ll die too, Jedi.”

So Mucdro wasn’t impressed. Luke filed that information away. He preferred gangsters to be at minimum a _little_ unsettled when Luke Skywalker came to call. At least it didn’t appear the Dug was aware of the charges they’d already set below.

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Mara’s reply was confident. “Your poison gas already failed.”

“Better death through chemistry, that’s what I always say,” Mucdro croaked with another vicious laugh, obviously believing himself hilarious. “But I didn’t know I was dealing with dishonorable Jedi then.”

“ _Dishonorable_ ?” Luke’s eyes narrowed. Where had that come from? This filth sold actual _death_ in a _stick_ and he was going to lecture them?! They weren’t even using the Force!

“Doesn’t take a Jedi to shut down _your_ amateur operation,” Mara scoffed.

Luke returned his attention to the homemade bomb, wondering vaguely if Mara was about to explain just how un-Jedi-like their infiltration had been. Crimelords loved to talk. Universal truth. But right now Luke needed a fuse. Something long, preferably. He’d already decided he was going to throw the bomb using the Force, no chances here, but they would need time to get outside the blast zone. The hypofibre in his undertunic… Quickly, Luke untied the strip of shirt around his neck, just as there was a loud crash, shaking the entire building.

“Nice try, Mucdro.” Luke could hear the sneer in Mara’s voice. “Want another go?”

“That won’t be necessary,” the Dug replied, and Luke didn’t know if he was relieved or concerned to hear the snap-hiss of Mara’s lightsaber as the zing of blaster fire began. Mucdro’s reinforcements had arrived and apparently the conversation was over.

Luke’s eyes returned to the shirt rag—floating in the oil bath where he’d dropped it. Wonderful. He fished it out. Ideally, a slow-burning fuse shouldn’t be _quite_ so flammable. They needed time to get out of here. _Nice job, Jedi_ , Luke cursed under his breath. He knew Mara could handle a few goons, but he wanted to help. And right now…

The sound of blasters came less frequently, and he couldn’t hear Mara's lightsaber’s familiar hum anymore. Luke gingerly set down the fuel can and ran over to where he’d left her. She was standing unscathed amidst several downed security guards. Mucdro was nowhere in sight.

“He ran away,” she explained, guessing at his thoughts. “He’ll explode along with everything else below, don’t worry.”

“You alright?”

Turning to him, hands on hips, Mara’s lips quirked on one side as she took in the view.

“Of course. You look like you could use some help, though.”

“Hey, _I_ didn’t need to use my lightsaber.”

Mara looked indignant, her mouth falling open. “Neither did I! It was just a distraction while I shot them!”

“A distraction.” It was evident that Luke didn’t believe her.

“Yeah, like you running around showing more skin than a glitbiter on Er’Kit. A distraction.”

“This,” Luke swept a hand from his collarbones down to his thighs, “was me saving our _lives_. The distraction is incidental.”

“No,” Mara smirked. “The distraction is a _bonus_.”

Shaking his head, Luke couldn’t help the smile. His wife’s appreciation certainly wasn’t anything to get upset over. “Glad you think so. Where’s the shirt, you know, your face mask? I need it for the fuse. Then we can get out of here.”

Mara’s eyebrows raised, her hand automatically going to her neck. Where there was no shirt.

“Where is it?” she asked blankly.

“That’s what I’m asking you?” It came out like a question, but it was already clear it had fallen off at some point, running up stairs or dodging blaster shots. And they didn’t have time to find it. Luke had a bad feeling about this. 

“I had it—” Mara looked around the immediate space, confused. “It was looped…”

“Nevermind,” Luke sighed. “Let’s finish the job and get out of here.”

“But how—” she began, then realized. “Oh…” 

Luke saw her trying to hold back the laughter and waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t pretend you are anything other than thrilled by this turn of events,” he said, pulling off his underwear.

“I won’t,” she grinned. “In fact, it feels like the will of the Force, wouldn’t you say, Master Skywalker?”

Using the multitool to slice his basics into thin strips, Luke shook his head, amused despite himself. At least it was Mara…anyone else, he really didn’t want to think about this scenario. 

Luke knotted the strips together, coming up with a little less than a standard Imperial meter. It would have to do. Stuffing one end of the soft cloth into the fuel can, Luke then bondtaped the bandolier with the exposed powerpacks to the outside. Mara watched silently, then placed a soft kiss on his neck.

“I have never been more attracted to you then I am right now,” she breathed against his skin as Luke tore off the final strip of tape with his teeth.

“Making explosives, smelling like speeder fuel, coated with death stick fumes, and wearing nothing but my boots?” 

She answered with another kiss, a brief swipe of lips against lips. “And weapons,” she purred, tapping the blaster against his thigh and lightsaber hilt dangling at his waist, where her hand lingered.

“You’re just lucky that biosuit isn’t made of burn-friendly syncloth,” Luke said, tying off the underwear fuse and carefully picking up the fuel can. “I’m just being practical.”

Mara nodded and stepped away, back to being serious. “So what’s the plan? That bomb alone isn’t going to provide a big enough boom…”

Luke explained briefly: First, plant the remaining charges on the crates nearest the doors. Second, get to the exit, light the can, toss it far away, preferably into the lube bath, and somehow get a safe distance away before the entire place exploded.

“That it?” Mara asked, a glint in her eye.

“Mara,” Luke said calmly, and, he hoped, convincingly, “we _have_ to throw it with the Force. This is too important to take the chance that we could miss the target.”

His wife didn’t say anything, just jogged over to the pile of spacejunk on the fringes of the hangar. Luke followed without comment.

“Aha!” she crowed, uncovering a wide, curved sheet of metal with the toe of her boot.

“That’s the canopy from a V-19,” Luke said, surprised. The Torrent series of starfighters weren’t ubiquitous as they once were, but they had been well made. It was strange to see a piece of one in a scrapheap.

“Correction: It’s our escape pod.” She held up a small canister Luke hadn’t noticed. “Pressurized methane. They collect it around here and it’s used as propulsion on boats in the swamps.”

Luke nodded. “Yeah, I read the briefer too, but even if that shoots us back to the speeder, we don’t have—”

“Fuel?” she grinned, nodding towards the corner. Sure enough, there was a neat stack of compressed fuel cells. The Force _was_ apparently with them, even if they weren’t taking advantage of it.

“You’re the only one with pockets,” Luke pointed out. Mara laughed, then went to collect enough of a stash to get them back to the Cutlass, putting one in each side of her suit and then another inside her boot for good measure. She gleefully smashed the last cell into dusty bits against the canopy, the familiar smell protection against the Gorm-worms for their return, then dragged their impromptu sledge to the exit.

“Ready?”

Luke checked the bomb. He was forgetting something. What…what…oh.

“No igniter.”

“Sithspit,” Mara sucked in a breath. “Forgot about that.”

“Me too.”

“Bombs and charges and combustibles everywhere and not a sparkstick to be found,” Mara sighed.

Luke closed his eyes a moment, trying to focus, but shouts and heavy treads in the distance cut short his brainstorm. The difference in sound meant the guards were better armored against blasters this time. “We don’t have time to look," he admitted. “Have to light it some other way.”

Luke returned as fast as he could to the scrapheap. Most of the pieces were too large to be used to strike against one another and he discarded them rapidly. Others, like the nitrosodium metal ring he unearthed, were extremely flammable. Luke placed the volatile find into one of the crates. It would help everything go boom.

“Luke…”

“I know, I know.” Mara’s warning was unnecessary. They had to move now and quickly. And throwing the bomb was no longer an option.

He hadn’t seen a hydrospanner near the droid dock. If only he had something metal and portable, he could smash it against his multitool. Trying to think, Luke jogged the rigged fuel can back to the lube bath. That was where it needed to go off. While running, his lightsaber hilt bounced against exactly the wrong spot, and Luke hissed in pain. The silver lining was a revelation that accompanied: he could melt the tool with his weapon, get it hot enough to light the cloth. Using the lightsaber that way wasn’t breaking the rules of engagement, right? In any case, there wasn’t really an alternative at this point. Spooling out the now all-too-short fuse, Luke crouched as low as he dared, laying the end of the syncloth fuse on top of the compact folded implement, then ignited the lightsaber. 

Its green blade flared to life and Luke brought the tip down to the metal. If he hadn’t been so set on this whole “no Jedi” thing, he would have thought of using it long before.

“Get ready Mara,” he yelled, even as the doors whished open and blasters began blazing.

The metal glowed orange, then the light blue material atop it frayed, blackened, and began to burn. Luke ran as fast as he could, trusting the Force to guide him, and saw Mara lying on her stomach on the repurposed canopy. She held the methane canister at the ready, her hand on the pressure regulator.

Leaping over her, Luke faced the terrain outside, trying to focus enough to steer, as Mara unscrewed the seal the instant he landed. 

They flew so fast towards the moat of Gorm-worms Luke barely had time to register their descent into the squirming heap. The slithering creatures didn’t have time to react, much less attack. It seemed the instant they were in the pit, they were past, and a loud explosion rocked the night, followed by several more. It had felt a lot longer than fifteen minutes, but finally the charges in the manufacturing center had blown.

Luke concentrated on guiding the jetting canopy towards their speeder through weight distribution, but they were approaching too fast.

“Slow down!” he shouted, the words drowned out by more explosions. They had gotten out just in time.

They were flying past their destination. Making a snap decision, Luke looped his bootheels under Mara’s armpits and twisted, hoping she would release the canister as they rolled off the sled.

She did. A quick and painful tumble, and both of them lay panting in the dirt, a tangle of limbs. Mara recovered first, sitting up and sliding over to Luke, looking down at him with concern.

“Break anything?”

“Nothing important.”

She ran a hand from his cheek down his body, testing.

“Ouch,” Luke said unconvincingly, when her fingers drifted where he wanted them.

“Will a kiss make it better?” She arched an eyebrow, but still sounded worried.

Luke propped himself up on his elbows, taking physical inventory despite his joke. He still had his lightsaber clutched in one hand. Things ached. Many things.

“Probably need more than one.”

Mara offered the first of many welcome and healing smooches, and by the time they made it to the city, Luke felt close to exploding himself. At the edge of the forest, Mara left him, setting off to the ship for fresh clothes. Luke sat against a tree and waited, attempting some healing techniques and enjoying the smell of success, which tonight was exceptionally odiferous. It wasn’t long when he sensed her return and smiled in greeting.

“Glad to see the smile, since I brought the holocam. Remember, your pic for _Spacestars?_ ”

“Liar.”

“See, using the Force is no fun all the time. It ruined my joke.”

Luke sat up and accepted the bundle of clothes. Mara’s selections from his closet weren’t always the most comfortable, but he liked it when she chose them, regardless. She had already changed, and looked as beautiful as when the night had started. Luke shook out a wide-necked green tunic in soft shimmersilk weave and started to put it on. Mara stopped him with a hand on his bare shoulder.

“Wait.” Her voice was serious. “Bacta first. I brought the medkit. Our first stop is the nearest medcenter.”

Obediently, Luke let the shirt sleeves slide back down his arms while Mara applied the sticky patches to his burns. She was gentle, but it hurt and he knew he couldn’t hide it from her.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she was done. “This was my idea.”

“Blame Mucdro.” He pulled up the shirt sleeves once more. “And the experiment was a success. And a nice reminder,” Luke tried to reassure her. “We can still take out the bad guys without superpowers.”

Mara laughed. “You’ve been watching too many holovids with your niece and nephews.”

Luke finished fastening the tunic and moved to basics and the loose-fitting black pants Mara had chosen, standing with a slight wince. “They’re _your_ niece and nephews too, you know.”

Crossing her arms, Mara watched him finish dressing, a faint, mysterious smile on her lips. “I know.”

“You like being Aunt Mara,” Luke grinned, “don’t deny it.”

Mara kissed him, a long, lingering pressure that felt like a promise and a question all at once. Luke held her tightly, wondering at this change. Earlier he’d expected their normal post-mission celebration, but now he felt a tension that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.

“What?” Luke pulled back, studying her face. “What is it? Tell me.”

“Do you…” Mara’s hands slid down the material of his sleeves gently, their fingers twining. “…Think your sister would like to be Aunt Leia?”

Luke actually felt his eyes start to fall out of his head, his heart tightening in his chest. “Are you…? I mean…?” He couldn’t think.

“No! No no no,” Mara shook her head, smiling at his misinterpretation. “But we can try. If you want.” 

It wasn’t said like a question. Mara already knew what he wanted. Luke smiled back, drawing her into a strong hug.

“Can I use the Force?” he teased, kissing her forehead.

“Sparingly,” Mara answered, then pulled away, leading him towards the waiting speeder. “Selectively.”

“Creatively,” Luke added, lifting her hand to his lips to kiss as he straddled the bike in front. “Inventively.”

“You’ve been pretty inventive tonight without the Force,” Mara retorted.

“Imagine how inventive I would have been with it!”

“You’re incorrigible,” Mara said, securing her arms around him and leaning against his back as they drove off.

“Don’t forget insatiable,” Luke replied, a smile that felt permanent bending his lips, injuries forgotten, and nothing but the future with Mara on his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> My giftee requested a MacGyver-like escape, and as a fan of the original series, I admit I got a little carried away. This fic is stuffed with actual MacGyver-isms and Easter eggs. If you would like to know exactly what those are, here's a brief run-down:
> 
> Random winks:  
> • Mucdro is an anagram for MacGyver’s nemesis Murdoc  
> • MacGyver’s birthday is supposed to be March 23, which is why our ship berths at dock 323  
> • MacGyver's stereotypical all-purpose items are his Swiss army knife and duct tape. Obviously I had to include the GFFA versions, which is why Luke using "bonding tape" to secure the powercells to the fuel can (whereas MacGyver used duct tape to secure batteries to his gas can), and Luke's "multitool" is his Swiss army knife equivalent.  
> Dialogue winks:  
> • The dialogue “We’ll live/I seriously doubt that” is from Season 2, Episode 18 “Partners”  
> • “Better death through chemistry” is a line Murdoc delivers in Season 6, Episode 19 “Strictly Business”
> 
> MacGyverism inspirations:  
> • In Season 1, Episode 1 “Pilot,” MacGyver uses a shirt to filter gases. There is historical precedent for this, as apparently the ammonia in urea provides protection against chemical gases. Sweat has small amounts of urea as well so rather than have Luke pee on his shirt (shudder) we went with this solution. It got the man’s shirt off! Also in that very first episode MacGyver uses sodium metal as a critical component in making stuff go boom.  
> • Season 1, Episode 10 “Target MacGyver,” our man uses cooking oil to send the crooks slipping and sliding all over the place.  
> • Season 1, Episode 12 “Deathlock,” MacGyver turns on every available electrical appliance to heterodyne signals and jam the bad guys’ communications. In that same episode, he sends a suit of armor out to distract an automatic gun that tracks movement.  
> • Season 2, Episode 1, “Human Factor,” Mac uses his pants (see I didn’t make this up!) to loop around a pipe and hang from to save himself and his companion.  
> • MacGyver is pretty legendary for making bombs from stuff that’s lying around. Luke’s homemade explosive here is a combination of a couple MacGyver-esque ideas, sort of a Molotov cocktail meets gas tank. Luke and Mara were surrounded by explosive and combustible things, such as the methane gas, but I most notably took some elements from the Season 2, Episode 18 “Partners” for mine, when the key ingredients were oil (the lube bath), pantyhose (boxers or briefs Luke?), batteries (our blaster powerpacks), and an old exhaust pipe. In Season 2, Episode 19, “Bushmaster,” Mac also builds a bomb with gasoline and ammunition, which he has to ignite by creating a spark of metal on metal, as Luke intends before turning to his lightsaber.  
> • In Season 4, Episode 14, “Gold Rush,” MacGyver rides a cargo plane’s door like a sled. That same episode is one of many where he uses a gas canister for propulsion to send something in the direction he needs.  
> • Mac is always doing creative things to speed up elevators, short-circuit or hot wire ‘em, or use them to get rid of bombs. I was a little simpler with my elevator ruse.  
> • In “Halloween Knights,” Season 5 episode 6, Mac uses his breath and some chalk to bypass a bioscanner. In that same episode he uses kerosene on his legs and feet to get across a deadly snakepit.  
> • I’m pretty sure Mac has an episode where someone is smuggling biotoxins in stuffed teddy bears, but I can’t find which one it is. That’s where our toy bantha inspiration came from.
> 
> I didn't make up Sebolto's death stick factory or criminal empire, and a Gorm-worm really did kill a Jedi named Andur Sunrider in the Legends universe.


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